


Who's a Coward?

by elle_reads



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Praise Kink, Shameless Smut, Size Difference, Soft Ben Solo, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-19 01:33:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20201554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elle_reads/pseuds/elle_reads
Summary: When he got the text from his Rey—Go fuck yourself—Ben wasn't exactly surprised, but he admitted he was disappointed.He knew he wasn't her favorite person, but it didn't feel great to be reminded of it, especially since he was hopelessly infatuated with her. She, on the other hand, detested him since the day she became his roommate.





	Who's a Coward?

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this prompt](https://twitter.com/Violethoure666/status/1159855699691802626?s=20) from the brilliant [Violethoure666](https://archiveofourown.org/users/violethoure666/pseuds/violethoure666)

He wasn't exactly surprised to get the text from Rey, but he couldn't say he wasn't disappointed.

At first, Rey had seemed like a perfect roommate for him, but—like so much else in his life—things went downhill so quickly it was less like a slide and more like an avalanche.

He’d like to blame it on his therapist; after all, it was thanks to Gwen Phasma that he had a roommate. Phasma was immensely patient with him, but he could tell even she was getting tired of his constant bitching about Hux’s petty sabotage and Snoke’s impossible-to-meet expectations. When even your therapist was tired of your bullshit, it was time to make a change. Ben actually liked that about Phasma; she didn’t let him stagnate, and she’d helped him see that he had exactly two options: be miserable forever or quit. He hadn’t quite worked up to leaving First Order yet, but getting a roommate was a step in the right direction. No one else would pay him anywhere close to what he got at FO, but at least with his newfound frugality, once he did find the balls to quit, he'd be able to afford the financial hit.

He hadn’t been looking forward to the whole roommate thing, though. With his luck, if he opened his home to a stranger, odds were good he'd end up with a total weirdo. But he was honest enough—with himself, at least—to admit that the idea of risking one of the few friendships he had by adding the stress of living together to the relationship was a non-starter. So when Poe mentioned his friend Rey was looking for a place, it seemed like luck was finally on Ben’s side.

Rey's an ideal roommate. She was fanatical about not using his things without permission, insisted on paying for her share of all joint expenses, down to tissues, and didn't clutter up their living space with her stuff. In fact, she seemed to have practically no personal possessions.

Ben even found himself endeared by the quirks he was sure would have annoyed him in someone else. When he had to move five cans of beans to get to the bread maker because she’d crammed non-perishables into every spare inch of the kitchen, he just thought of how cute she looked with her cheeks puffed out like a squirrel, mouth full of food. He knew she didn’t realize how her voice carried, but every morning, he woke up to her singing Taylor Swift songs in the shower. He kept vowing to ask her to quiet down until he realized he was humming along. He wasn’t sure how she did it, because as far as he knew, she never burned candles and they used the same detergent, but somehow the apartment started to smell like her—not her perfume, just _her._

Then there were her more dangerous habits. She’d grown up in the desert and seemed allergic to clothes, comfortable only when she was wearing the barest minimum level of coverage. His thoughts were...not roommate appropriate.

There was another delicate situation...about her delicates. Rey was apparently incapable of remembering to collect her scraps of lace from the drying rack above the laundry machine, and Ben found himself equally incapable of tearing his eyes away from the tiny pieces of fabric that seemed completely non-functional—unless their purpose was to drive him insane.

He tried to explain away his lust-crazed thoughts away as a natural response to seeing so much of her skin and the clothing that just barely covered her most intimate parts. He hated himself for using how she looked, how she dressed, as an excuse. He didn't want to be _that_ guy—he shut down talk like that whenever he heard it—but he felt out of control.

Phasma talked him down a bit, saying that there was a difference between responding to visual stimuli and judging Rey for how he responded or acting on his response without an indication from her that it would be welcome. It helped, a bit, but he still felt like a creep. Mostly because Rey...well, she hated him.

It started the day she moved in. Her initial visit to meet him and check out the apartment had gone so well that she signed a year-long lease on the spot. Ben wasn't a fool; he’s sure he would still have earned the “Go fuck yourself” text...but he’d like to think that if Han hadn’t dropped by 10 minutes before she started moving in, Ben would have had a few decent weeks with Rey before things started to deteriorate.

Maybe if he’d talked to his father in the last decade, or if he let his mother bring up Han on the rare occasions he saw her, he’d have known that Rey worked in Han’s shop part-time during college and that since then, Han had become like a father to her. But then, if he had any sort of relationship with Han, the two of them probably wouldn’t have been screaming at each other when Rey walked in, and Rey probably would have known who Ben was before she signed the lease.

He found out later that Han rarely mentioned his son, and never by name. Rey had never seen a photo of Ben because Han couldn't stand to look at his son’s face, even frozen on paper—but Ben didn't know any of this when Rey walked in on their fight, just that his new roommate was seeing him at his worst. He told Han, again, to leave, apologized to Rey, and promised her that his father wouldn't bother them again. He didn't know her yet, but it was clear that infuriated her.

“You’re his son?!”

“Yes?” It shouldn’t have been a question; as much as he’d have liked to answer otherwise, he _is_ Han’s son, but she’d clearly been shocked, appalled even.

She turned her attention to Han, and her entire affect shifted, becoming the very image of compassion. “Are you okay?” She couldn’t have been gentler if Han was a kicked puppy.

“I’m fine, kid. Don’t worry about me. Didn’t realize this was your new place, though. Guess I won't be visiting too much,” Han said with an attempt at a laugh.

Ben was frozen in his entryway, mystified by the conversation unfolding in front of him.

Rey’s response was fierce. “You are _always_ welcome in my home. I’m not living any place you’re not welcome!”

Her words were clearly directed to Ben, but he was still stuck on the fact that Rey apparently knew Han. His input obviously wasn't needed, though, because Han continued without it.

“Easy, kid! I appreciate it, but I’m not trying to cause any trouble for you. Let’s stick to the usual Sunday dinners, ok?”

They had dinner? Weekly? He'd felt two steps behind since it became clear that his father and roommate knew each other, but now he felt like they'd outpaced him so far, he could barely keep them in sight.

Rey glared at Ben, but huffed out a "fine." She and Han left the apartment together, and when she returned with her next box, she did so alone.

She and Ben didn't speak for over a week.

Things thawed eventually, especially after Poe used a combination of trickery, bribery, and begging to get them talking over drinks at Maz's Cantina. After that night, he understood better why Rey resented him so much for not appreciating his parents—she didn't say it outright, but he could hear how desperately she wished she had a family of her own growing up, how hard she'd worked to make a family for herself.

When he shared how his parents were absent when he was growing up and how personally he took that, he thought she saw his perspective too. It's never easy to talk about, and it had especially difficult to share with Rey. There'd been a time when he'd been so eager to remove her rose-tinted glasses, but once he realized how important Han and Leia were to her, he didn't want to take away what she had with them—even if it's something he'd longed for and never had himself.

He thought he struck an okay balance, and that Rey graduated from loathing him to merely disliking him. In his—rare—moments of optimism, he thought she might even consider him decent...a decent _person,_ anyway. As a man, however, she clearly found him unappealing, if not repulsive.

It wasn't the best feeling, given his crush on her. Poe told him, repeatedly, that he was being ridiculous, but the evidence was too convincing to ignore.

He used to do push-ups every morning in the living room; he’s tall, and even though his bedroom was fairly big, the king bed took up most of the space, so he'd be cramped in there. That ended when he realized that it ruined Rey’s appetite—something he hadn't thought was possible. She was eating cereal, and he got to work on the living room floor as usual. He only noticed because he’d slept poorly—thoughts of her keeping him up, again, of course—and his neck was bothering him. He'd twisted to try to loosen the tension and caught sight of her reflection in the window. She was frozen, spoon in the air, just staring at his too-big, always-awkward body like it was a train wreck she couldn’t stop watching. He felt awful. He wasn’t sure whether to pretend he didn’t see her and continue as usual, or leave then, hoping that her meal could be salvaged.

She apparently found him so repulsive she couldn’t imagine anyone else stomaching him either. Poe had told him he had to do something about his crush, so he decided to try online dating to distract himself from his borderline obsession with Rey. It was unusual for him to leave the apartment on a Friday night, so he wasn’t offended when Rey jokingly asked if he had a hot date. When he answered in the affirmative, he saw her downturned expression before she could contain her reaction. She was a nice person—the best he knew, really—so, of course, she wished him well, but he had seen her face. She clearly felt awful for the poor girl who had matched with him.

So he knew he had no chance with Rey on a romantic level, but he hoped for her friendship. It was a long shot, but he thought it was probably good to have a goal to work towards other than quitting his shitty job.

It wasn't the only reason he decided to work on his relationship with his parents—as much as they’d hurt each other, he still loved his mom—but his desire for Rey’s respect was, admittedly, a big motivator.

His expectations for familial harmony were low—or as Phasma would say, reasonable—but things had actually been going alright. By his measures of success (no insults or fighting), they’d had 3.5 positive interactions in the last month (he couldn't decide whether Han saying, “I’m glad you’re finally doing something about leaving Snoke” counted as an insult, so he’d awarded half credit), which he thought was pretty good.

And that’s why it was especially shitty to get the “Go fuck yourself” text from Rey. There’ve been days, weeks, months where it would have been merited, but he really thought they were getting somewhere. He'd thought they were friendly, if not friends, now.

It didn't help that he’d had a couple of glasses of Scotch and felt more emotional than he otherwise might. He probably shouldn’t go back to the apartment right now, but Poe was already driving him home. He cursed under his breath.

“Snoke again? Or Hux?” Poe guessed.

“Worse. Rey.”

“What? What did she say?!”

He was probably overreacting, but he couldn’t bring himself to read it out loud, to make it real. They were at a stoplight, so he handed the phone over to Poe and looked away. Poe must have been re-reading Rey’s text like Ben did, as if the words would change between readings, because he didn't return it until the light turned. When another text came through, Ben’s heart stopped.

“Poe, what _the fuck_ did you do?” Ben didn't recognize his own voice.

“What did she say?”

“YOU SAID 'FUCK ME YOURSELF YOU COWARD,' POE!” The phone was shaking. No, Ben was shaking.

“I know, what did _she_ say?”

“She said, ‘I meant to send that to Poe. I’m pretty sure he subscribed me to a texting service that sends hourly cat facts.’ I’m going to fucking kill you, Poe.”

“What?!” Poe exclaimed. “Cat facts are fun!”

He was plotting a slow, painful death for his former friend when another message came through. Rey was clearly—and understandably—pissed. “She just said, ‘Not important anymore. When will you be home?’”

Ben started typing out a message to explain that Poe was responsible for the text from his phone. Why were the buttons so goddamn small and his fingers so big? Before he could hit send, another text from Rey came through.

Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.

“Oh my god, Poe. She sent me a picture thing that says, ‘Yes is being my answer.’ Does that...does that mean what I think it means?”

Poe gave him a shit-eating grin. “I dunno Ben, do you think it means you’re getting laid tonight?”

“But...she...she _hates_ me.”

Poe rolled his eyes. “One, hate is not an obstacle to fucking, I’ve explained this to you before.”

Christ, Poe’s enthusiasm for hate sex was so not the point right now.

“Two, she does _not_ hate you, if anything she hates how much she doesn’t hate you. I can promise you that girl is exactly as down for you as you would expect, given that she said yes to your sext.”

“_Your_ sext.” He was still kinda pissed about the risk Poe took on his behalf, even if—unbelievably—it seemed like it might work out in his favor.

“True, and you’re welcome for that, by the way," Poe said with a triumphant smirk. "And if you don't want me to bring this up in my speech at your wedding, you should probably start thinking now about appropriate bribes. Oh! Do I want to be Best Man or Man of Honor?! If I’m the Man of Honor, then I don’t have to compete with you in a tux, which, have you seen you?" Poe leered at him. "But...you don’t have any other friends, and I don’t want to be in a weirdly unbalanced, sad-sack wedding party...”

He’d completely lost Poe, which was fine, because the “Yes is being my answer” image kept replaying on his screen and was this really happening? Should he respond? She had asked when he’d be home…. Shit, they were about to pull into the complex and what in the ever-living fuck was he supposed to say to Rey?

“Poe. Poe. POE! Pay attention. What am I going to do?”

“Well, Benny, when a man loves a wo-...wait, that’s some heteronormative, gender binary, romantic bullshit. When a person wants to fuck another consenting person….”

“Poe, I will murder you. Tell me how to not fuck this up with Rey.”

Poe must have gotten how serious this was for Ben because he actually gave his full attention. “Just tell her, Ben. I mean, maybe don’t tell her that you’re obsessed with her and you’ve been in love with her since practically the day she moved in…”

“I’m not— I haven’t—” he tried to choke out, but he couldn't even finish the sentence.

“Yeah, exactly. Anyway, tell her that you really care about her and you’d like for this to go somewhere.”

“Ok. Ok, I can do that.” They were in the parking lot now. It was now or never, so— no more stalling.

“Go get ‘em, tiger.”

“You’re still the worst.”

“I’m the best and you know it.”

Poe wasn't wrong; Ben didn't know a better friend than Poe, but he wasn't about to admit that.

“Whatever, Poe.”

He got out of the car, Poe drove away, and now Ben just needed to...do this?

Somehow he made his way to the apartment, unlocked the door, and there was Rey, sitting on the couch in a strappy tank top and shorts that would have his mind on sex if it weren't already there.

“Hi.” Solid opener, Ben, really nailed it, way to sell this goddess on her decision. She smiled at him, though, so it must have been ok, and he found himself in front of her without really knowing how he crossed the space.

“I wanted to say...uh...well, before we...” And then suddenly he wondered, and how had he not thought of this before, but what if this were a joke? What if she’d thought he was joking and she joked back and now she’d realize that he meant it and _oh god—_

“Were you serious?” he blurted out, smooth as a porcupine.

She stood and seemed to smile with her eyes? Goddamn, he was so gone for this girl.

“Yeah." She looked up at him and bit her lip, Christ. "Yeah, Ben, I, uh, I really like you,” she told him.

“Oh,” he swallowed, “okay, great. That’s,” another swallow, “really great. I’m not sure exactly what you mean by that but I, uh, I think you should know—” What had Poe told him to say? She was standing _so close_ to him, and he couldn't seem to _think_. Somehow he continued. “—you should know that I care a lot about you. And if you want tonight,” Christ, she wanted tonight, “that’s great, with me, but,”—how was there a but in this sentence?—“I didn’t think it would be fair not to tell you, upfront, that I’m hoping it’s not just tonight.”

“Oh!” She’s surprised. She’s surprised? How was that surprising? How could anyone not want to be with her? “I’m...thank you for telling me that. I care about you, too, Ben.”

Was this real? He was pretty sure he couldn't pinch himself without her noticing, and besides, if it was a dream, he'd rather stay asleep.

He couldn't wait any longer. He had to kiss her, had to run his hands down her shoulders, and he was certain now that it wasn't a dream. It couldn't be a dream, because it was—impossibly—even better than he’d imagined. He hadn’t anticipated her hum of appreciation when he kissed her, her shiver as he traced his lips along her jaw, her quiet moan as he ran his teeth ever so gently down the delicate column of her neck, along her collar bone.

She was so responsive, and it only spurred him on. He returned to her lips, holding her head to his, and when she deepened their kiss, he couldn't help but tighten his grip on her hair. She must have liked it because she made the most delicious sound and tugged his lower lip between her teeth. She ground her body against his and the friction was incredible.

“Bed,” he gasped between kisses, “we need a bed.” He was proud of how articulate he was, under the circumstances. She was kissing his neck and her hands were rhythmically squeezing his biceps. His dick was helpfully pointing out how good that pulsating pressure would feel a little lower.

“Yours is huge,” she huffed out. He wasn't terribly confident, but that was one of the few things he'd always felt pretty good about. He's a big guy and he's...proportional. Still, hearing Rey’s approval was incredible, even though it made the pressure in his jeans so much worse.

“We’ll be cramped in mine,” she says.

Wait, what? Oh, she’d been talking about their beds. He pulled himself away from the attention he’d been giving her neck to focus on their conversation. She was right, but his room lacked a critical resource.

“I don’t have condoms.”

“I have an IUD and I’ve been tested recently. If you have, I’m okay without.”

Fuuuuuck. “Yeah, I haven’t had sex since my last test.” He refrained from mentioning this was before she moved in, months ago. “You’re sure?”

She nodded and maybe there was a world in which they walked calmly to his room, but it wasn't this one. He scooped her into a bridal carry and returned to ravishing her mouth. It was a small miracle that he managed to get them to his bed without knocking into anything, but somehow they made it and then he was looking down at the sight of Rey on his sheets. He was torn between wanting to sear the memory into his brain and really, really needing to think of anything else if he wanted to make it any further without embarrassing himself. He fingered the hem of her top. It was silky, not one he’d seen before. Did she change for him, for this? He needed to not think about that either.

“Can I take this off?”

She bit her lip, uttered a breathless _please_ and as he helped her shimmy out of it, he just, he lost himself.

He wanted so badly to savor every moment of this, not knowing if he’d ever experience it again, but he wasn’t able to hold back. His body molded to hers, kissing, licking, sucking every inch of exposed skin. He ground his dick against the bed, fully clothed, as she writhed, actually writhed beneath him.

He hooked his fingers into the waist of her shorts and gave her a questioning glance. The look she gave him in return wa so heated, he felt as though he'd combust, but he didn't move. He needed to hear her say it.

“Ben, _please_.”

When he found her dripping for him underneath her shorts, it nearly undid him. He set himself to the task of learning what she liked best—what would draw more delicious sounds from her as he licked, sucked, nibbled. Focusing on that gave him the reprieve he badly needed.

His relief was short-lived, though, because she said, ‘Ben, _please,_ more,’ and then she was so hot and wet around his finger he couldn't think. He worked a second into her and he could tell he’d found exactly the right spot from the way she moaned. It was _everything._

He wasn't sure whether to add a third finger. He really didn't want to mess this up when what he was doing was working for her, but he wasn't exaggerating about that proportional thing and he wanted that to feel good, too—but she saved him from having to decide.

He thought her orgasm caught her by surprise, too, or else she just wasn't worried about crushing his head between her thighs and using her grip on his hair to mash his face into her. He wasn't sure which would be hotter, but either way, he’d never been harder. He was still coaxing her through the aftershocks and already, he knew he wanted to do this again and again and again. She was chanting ‘fuck’ and ‘Ben’ like they were the only two words she knew, and he could relate—he couldn't think about anything but _fucking_ Rey and fucking _Rey._

He gentled his tongue, lapping her up, and eventually, she pulled him up the bed, up her body. Her eyes were blown out, but her gaze was intense.

“Ben. I need you to fuck me. Now.”

If she expected him to be able to reply, she’d badly overestimated his ability to function right now or else underestimated her own appeal. He tore off his clothes and was back on her in an instant. The feeling of his skin against hers was incredible. He ran his cock through her folds, using her own arousal to get himself wet, and it already felt so good he didn't know how he’d last. He pressed the tip of his cock against her clit on every pass and Rey was apparently done with waiting.

“Ben. _Now.”_

He entered her, slowly, because that was the only hope he had, and now he was the one chanting her name. She was breathing heavily, he could tell he’s a lot for her to take, but their eyes were locked on one another and he was certain she didn't need—didn't want—him to stop.

He bottomed out and couldn't hold back the litany of praise spilling from his lips. “Rey, Rey, you feel so good, fuck, Rey, you’re perfect.”

She looked up at him almost shyly, and said, “Yeah?” as if it was a question, as if there was any doubt—or maybe as if she just needed to hear it.

“Yes, Rey, fuck, you’re absolutely perfect. There’s no one like you, no one. You’re incredible. I—” and he knew he couldn't say it, he absolutely could not say the word ‘love’ right now, so, “—I need you.”

She whimpered, but it must have been a good thing because then she wrapped her legs around him to draw him deeper still and absolutely devoured him in a kiss. There was no holding back then. He kept talking to her, telling her how amazing she was because if nothing else, she needed to know that.

He didn't quite mean to say it, but he didn't have a lot of blood left in his brain. Besides, she _was_ being so good for him, and she must have wanted, maybe even needed, to hear it, because when he said it just like that—“such a good girl for me, Rey, just like that”—her hands clenched on his biceps, her short nails digging in, and she _whimpered._

She told him she wanted to ride him, and of course, _of course_, anything she wanted—but he didn't know how he was going to cope with the sight of her, glorious astride him. She was so _small_—with his hands on her waist, his fingers met in the middle—and yet lying on his back, he couldn't see anything but her.

He wasn't going to last like this, so he sucked a finger in his mouth, slipped it to her clit, and thank fuck he must have gotten the angle right because she went absolutely wild. It was all he could do to hang on and then she was coming, coming, coming.

She collapsed onto his chest and he flipped them back over. It was three, maybe four thrusts before his vision was whiting out. He was sure he’d never come so hard in life. He might have been embarrassed about whatever ridiculous face or sounds he probably made, but he couldn’t feel anything other than bliss.

After a few seconds, he realized he was probably crushing Rey. He didn't want to do that, of course, but he wasn't really ready to let go, so he gathered her in his arms and rolled them so he was lying on his back again and she was resting on his chest. Ideally, he’d never have to let her go. Was that an option?

“You know,” she said after a few beats, “we didn’t finish our conversation in the living room.”

His brain was functioning on very limited capacity. She wanted to talk? She wanted to talk, and he needed to give her everything she wanted.

Still, it took him a moment to remember the most significant conversation he’d ever had with her, possibly the most significant conversation of his life.

He’d told her he’d be happy to share the night with her but hoped for more.

“For the record,” she said, “I’m very open to more.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [@elle_vee_reads](https://twitter.com/elle_vee_reads) on Twitter. I'd love it if you said hi!


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